Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

One summer, Bobby. It was like you went to a really shitty sleepaway camp.

“That was where I picked up the love of horsery that I still carry with me today.”

Horsery is not a word.

“Equine magic.”

Dammit, you stop portmanteauing, Weir.

“I, uh, learned to rope. Ride. Which way the saddle goes. Why you don’t want to startle a horse.”

They can be dicks.

“The stablemaster at the ranch was named Farley. He used to say they got chompy chompers and stompy stompers. He’d been kicked several times in the temple. In fact, that thing about the chomping and stomping was all he said. He was more of a mascot than a stablemaster.”

Uh-huh. So you liked riding the horses?

“The riding was uncomfortable, honestly. I mostly enjoyed being photographed in the saddle.”

Sure.

“I lucked out.”

How so?

“90% of Rock Star’s daughters are horse girls. Dodged a bullet on that one.”